That cultural personality in me

Morning peace.

I hate the surrounding societal influence that created my father’s behavior in the man who was then constantly preoccupied with how these influences shaped the expectations I was forced to carry for him in order for him to feel accepted by the society that was forced on him. Which then made me lose what was his reality inside of him when I was growing up. I hate to see this in other men and women around me. Seeing my own loss, my own pain resurface in others, which constantly exposes me to it again. There is nothing in my own being or in the nature I belong to that has anything to do with it. Go away, be gone, just be somewhere else. I dont like what you have left behind in me, in all of us, what we had to deal with in ourselves. A game of attitudes that turns us into cattle. My father, like many other fathers, had abandoned his source. So there was no space between us where I was shown to it, or to the intermediate space where all the transitions take place. He had abandoned it and stopped listening as he was trying to justify it in himself through others and me. Which only made us feel redundant. Sadly he died without finding it so we could be close to it together.